#sprinkle of horror

[cloned-eyes]

pls ignore the unfinished bg

AU in which Tech reads something he shouldnt have...

[almond-tofu-chan]

What if they met

TW; EYE CONTACT, TEETH, DEREALIZATION, I MEAN C’MON THESE ARE BOTH HORROR SERIES YOU SHOULD EXPECT THIS BY NOW

[r0b0t1me]

nightmares suck. luckily familys always around to help

[faeriekit]

Health and Hybrids (XVII)👽👻💚

[I can't remember the original prompt posters  for the life of me but here's a mashup between a cryptid!Danny, presumed-alien!Danny, dp x dc, and the prompt made the one body horror meat grinder fic.]

PART ONE is here PART TWOis here PART THREE is here PART FOUR is here and PART FIVE is here PART SIX is here and PART SEVEN is here PART EIGHT is here PART NINE is here PART TEN is here PART ELEVEN is here PART TWELVE is here PART THIRTEEN is here PART FOURTEEN is here PART FIFTEEN is here PART SIXTEEN is here and we're limping into part 17...

💚 Ao3 Is here for all parts (now featuring mediocre mouseover translations, only available on a computer)

Where we last left off... Two! Words! In! English!!! And a television? Hardcore!

Trigger warnings for this story:  body horror | gore | post-dissection fic | dehumanization (probably) |  my nonexistent attempts at following DC canon. On with the show.

💚👻👽👻💚

Danny can raise his head now.

Only a little. It still hurts his neck for a while after. But his arms and his head both rise, now. His fingers curl, now, too.

The result is that Danny can now watch and change his own television channels. No more news! Now it’s all Food Network, all the time, baby. The result is that sometimes the doctors tending to him get distracted by various pasta dishes, but also. Danny is also distracted by various pasta dishes.

And roast chicken.

And fried potatoes. Every potato ever, actually.

…It makes eating his oatmeal a more awful ordeal.

“Aw, dyrling, na þa sæd egean,” the lady says to him, spoon at his lips. Danny weakly moves his arm towards her, but only manages to hit her elbow with the heel of his thumb. “Inne cwic tima, gise? Hiere þa læce.”

Danny is pretty sure his face is a nightmare to look at at the moment, but he still makes the world’s saddest expression at the lady, because she hasn’t blasted him or hit him or even sedated him yet, and he needs something. Anything.

He’s pretty the lady makes an equally sad look under her medical mask, but Danny is hungry and he’s tired all the time and he’s sad and he wants a cheeseburger. Or fries. Or…or anything at all!

Danny’s look gets progressively sadder, and the lady gets progressively sadder to match, and then they’re both just looking at each other so very sadly until a doctor physically has to cut between them to reach for Danny’s green-speckled blankets.

Ugh. Great. Now he’s cold too. He can’t quite muster a glare, but the doctor gets an extremely stern squint from him for their “help”.

The only response Danny gets is a half-strangled laugh. That is not the response Danny needs. He needs immediate respect and a Nasty Burger number two special.

And a new blanket.

“—Eall dæg?” the doctor asks the woman, but not Danny, and then he has to listen to everyone talking about him in a weird language without even pretending to ask for his input. It’s extremely annoying, and Danny half-considers falling asleep to avoid it. His gaze slides back to the television. He’s just as capable of ignoring everyone else as they are. He bets it sucks. He hopes it sucks.

They talk for a while, but then the lady takes the oatmeal away—and hey! Danny’s eyes widen and sting from the stretch. Uh. Maybe he didn’t think this one through. He’d still thought he’d get lunch out of this.

Um. He would like to continue to receive meals. But he’s watching her walk out with his oatmeal, which is the only human food that’s ever been given to him here, and…

Danny’s stomach cramps. It’s probably just anxiety.

He wishes he’d eaten the stupid oatmeal.

The doctor stays with him, setting the blanket into a laundry bin and checking over Danny’s body (ew) (gross) (nasty) for whatever they have to check on him, and Danny tries to go intangible at least four times during the check only to get oWOUCHOW jerks inside his core. At least one time, he flickers invisible. Not much, he thinks. Probably just an arm and the chunk of his torso.

The doctor pauses. Danny waits for things to (start to hurt) get worse.

“Mæg Ic?”’

…Danny doesn’t move. It hurts to breathe. Every time air scrapes through his nose and mouth, it burns a little more.

The doctor doesn’t move.

So they just.

Wait.

“Mæg Ic?” the doctor asks again.

They move very, very slowly. They touch him, and his—skin—and they rotate him to check underneath him. If they find something of whatever it is they’re monitoring him for, he gets wiped down with something gooey and wiped clean, and sometimes he even thinks they bandage him.

Danny wishes he had a bath. A whole, real bath. Where he could wash his own hair. And wipe off whatever this goo is.

When they’re done, the lady comes back in.

The sound of the door latching shut makes Danny flinch. Is she going to punish him? She walks to his bed. With her medical mask over her face, Danny can’t see if she’s visibly mad at him or not. She doesn’t look mad though…does she?

She stands to his good side, presumably so that Danny can see her. The oatmeal is back—it looks kind of gloopy, though, like it’s been badly reheated. The lady shows something to the doctor, who makes an irritated groan, and then they start talking to each other again. She cuts off to show him something, though—

Danny blinks. She’s showing it to Danny. He…looks down at it.

It looks like a mustard packet. It’s a black packet with yellow streaks, with writing on it with those letters Danny’s never seen before coming here, and it takes his eyes a second to focus on the package before realizing that there’s a little bee and pot on one end of the packet.

Oh. It’s honey?

Oh!

…Oh!!

Danny jerks upright, and, OW, and he definitely scares the lady and the doctor who rush to settle him but there’s honey?? Flavor??? His food can taste good again??!

He wheezes— and slaps a stinging hand onto the packet. “Pl’s?” he begs. He’d stopped begging in the old labs, no one there had listened to him—and he’d stopped begging for them to be gentle, to stop hurting him, to let him go. But for food. For food that tastes, Danny might do anything. Anything. “P’lease? Ple’se? Pleese?”

“Pleece?” the woman repeats, baffled. The word doesn’t mean anything to her; she’s only repeating the sounds. But Danny can’t stop begging.

“P’lease?”

“Pleece? Pleace?”

“Please?!”

“Awrite þis,” the woman mutters, and the doctor leaves. “Bist wel. Eom hebbjan eower wist. Es wel.”

And that still means nothing to him, but the lady gently lifts him up until his back can lay on the pillows, and he can sit more than lay. Danny watches in raspy silence as she rips the packet open and dumps the contents into the oatmeal. She stirs with gloved hands, ensuring that the packet is equally distributed. And then there’s a glob on her spoon, and the spoon to his lips.

Danny takes a bite. Tears well.

“Shhh,” the woman coaxes. “Wanian ma?”

Ma sounds kind of like more. Danny opens his mouth, and is rewarded with another spoonful.

He doesn’t start crying in earnest until the bowl is gone. But that’s alright. The lady finds tissues, somewhere, and he gets to look into her human-blue eyes as she carefully dries over and around his still-soft, green-edged wounds.

It’s a very nice gesture.

Danny sobs a little harder.

[cookierunauprompts]

This is super self indulgent buuut I like to think that shadow milk used to worm his way into the kingdoms he manipulated by being a jester or as an advisor so imagine this with a reader insert! Shadow milk just doing his thing when he sees the reader (could be anyone maid,princess etc) and thinks they are a perfect source for information but slowly starts to fall in love with them! And by the end he makes the reader watch as the kingdom they live in falls. Anyways hope you have a great day!

Requested Prompts #6 - 💓✙

TW - Mentions of violence, cannibalism

.

Everything was going perfectly, nobody knew him as more than the Court Jester, nobody could even guess that it was him stirring up the discord within the royal court. They only knew Blueberry Milkshake Cookie, the silly court jester who always kept one of his eyes covered. He was much, much more than just a Court Jester though. And he could tell that you knew that. So, his first thought was to get you... Out of the way. He quickly reconsidered that after seeing you behead an assassin cookie with your own bare hands. So, then came plan b, using you as a source of information. As the next in line to be Crowned in this kingdom of secrets, then surely you would hold some rather valuable information that he could use to further his own agenda. But of course, even then you were holding back on him. You were a locked treasure chest of secrets, and he was trapped in a room full of keys trying to find the one that was just right. Shouldn't he have abandoned this by now? Well, he hated to admit it, but he'd fallen in love with you. Hard and fast like a blazing meteor on a crash course into the planet. And then, came the day you revealed one of your secrets to him. " I hate this kingdom," You had said bitterly, bringing a surprised look to his face. " Hating your own kingdom, my liege?" He teased with a sly grin, not having believed you at first. " My apologies, but I thought that I was supposed to be the jokester here!-" " Blueberry Milkshake Cookie," You said sternly, and he watched as you turned to glare at him. " I'm being serious." He shut his mouth, these were your secrets, he'd finally found the key and gotten you to open up to him. Surely he wouldn't have to deal with this... love he'd developed for you after, right? " This kingdom is built upon lies, but I'm sure you knew that already." You walked up to him, hands finding their way under his arms to lift him up off his feat so the two of you could be at eye level. " Haven't you ever wondered why myself and my family are this powerful?" His heart was doing loop-de-loops, such as it always did when you showed off like this. " I have, yes." He answered. " It's because we eat other cookies, and I hate the fact that we do." You hissed out, biting your tongue to keep quiet and hushed. " You know those private executions? They're taking those Cookies to a slaughterhouse, some of them haven't even done anything wrong and yet they're being slain like livestock." You crouch down so his feet are touching the floor again while you get on your knees. " I despise this castle, my family, and everyone who let this continue to happen. I wish that my kingdom would be completely and utterly destroyed so that nobody will have to know what suffering went on here." Oh, he didn't expect that. He could see the tears of anger brimming in your eyes, he didn't like that expression on your face. So why not replace it with one of your better ones? Such as your elusive smile? His own expression twisted into a gleeful grin. " Aw~ Don't worry my dear, I'll be sure to make your wish come true~" He cooed, wiping your tears of frustration away with a wave of his hand. " What do you mean?" You had eventually asked him after a moment of silence. The confused expression on your face- not what he was going for, but he'd take it anyways- was just so adorable~ " Eheh he he he heh~ Oh, you'll just have to wait for my last performance, the one in three days time." He chuckled, slipping out of your hold and walking towards the door. " However, I do advise you get yourself out of the kingdom before then, Reader Cookie~ Ta ta for now~" On the inside, he cackled wildly... Not out loud of course, that'd get him found out. He hoped that you would head his warning, after all he didn't want you getting crumbled in the cross fire.

....

Might make a a part 2 for this one, mainly in Reader Cookie's POV about finding out that Shadow Milk was blueberry all along.

[signanothername]

It’s not the puppet, it’s the puppet master

[topazshadowwolf]

GoopTales: Part 22, waking up and domestic fluff

And now, they wake up...

Parts: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22(you are here)/34

AO3: Ch 1 (1-4), Ch 2 (4-8), Ch 3 (9-12), Ch 4 (13-16) Ch 5 (17-19), Ch 6 (20-23), Ch 7 (24-27), Ch 8 (28-31), Ch 9 (32-34)

---

Something moving started to pull him from the deeper sleep he had been enjoying. It wasn’t the first time he felt something move while sleeping. It frequently happens; he ignores it and continues to sleep, which is how it usually goes. His tentacles, reacting to the emotions that his dreams stir, are typically what he feels when moving about in bed. 

This was different, though.

It felt like small hands pushing on his back as someone was climbing on him. Soft, hushed voices telling the one who was climbing him confirmed his suspension. Nightmare groaned softly before opening his eye and looking at the little skeletons. Killer continued to climb up on him, settling down in the center of his back, making it hard for Nightmare to see him.

“killer,” Horror hissed softly in a whisper, “you woke him up.”

“i did?” Killer asked without the care of keeping quiet.

“You did,” Nightmare said before yawning. Slowly sitting up, he felt Killer safely slip down onto the bed in a fit of giggles.

“sorry,” Dust said softly.

“No need to apologize. I actually had a pleasant sleep. I hope you four did as well,” Nightmare said as his tendrils curled around the four small skeletons in a hug. “Now, if only I woke up on my own accord and not because some little minion decided to start crawling all over me. A rude awakening by an intrepid mountain climber is a poor start to a day.”

“intepit?” Cross asked.

“In-trep-id,” Nightmare corrected.

“intrepid,” Cross said, trying again.

“There you go, it means fearless or adventurous,” Nightmare explained.

“that’s me!” Killer exclaimed, holding his arms up excitedly.

Nightmare used a tendril to pick the child up, purposefully holding him upside-down, “Yes, that was you, but your actions were still rude. Were they not?”

Killer giggled, “sorry!”

“Why do I doubt that you are?” Nightmare asked, and Killer giggled more as Nightmare set him back down. “Alas, the youth these days have no respect for their elders. Whatever is an old man like me to do?”

“i re-pect you, mr. night,” Cross said quickly before whispering to Horror, “what’s re-pect mean?”

“respect, it means… um…,” Horror put his hand to his chin as he thought. “i know what it means just… um…”

“You are unsure how to define it, or put it into words?” Nightmare asked, and Horror nodded. “Start, and I will help you when you need it.”

“okay, um. it means that you… show uh… well you listen and you…show someone they are important,” Horror said, then looked at Nightmare.

“Exactly. You honor them by listening, doing as they ask, and being polite.” He smiled and patted Horror on the back. “You did well, Horror. You did not need my help after all.”

“thank you, mr. night,” Horror said with a smile.

“i respect you! i just like being silly,” Killer giggled.

“That you do, you little imp,” Nightmare huffed.

To that, Killer gasped and folded his arms, “i’m not an imp! i’m a skeleton!”

“Yes, you are. Come along, babybones. Time for breakfast,” Nightmare said as he stood from his bed.

“oh! oh! can you carry me, pleeeeaaase~?” Killer asked, holding his arms up in the traditional ‘pick me up pose’ all children seem to know naturally.

“me too! please!” Cross said, putting his arms up as well.

“Alright,” he said as he used his tendrils to wrap around those two and lifted them off the bed. Killer giggled and squirmed a little before finally settling into the hold. It amused Nightmare as the youngest, Cross, patted the tendril as if it were alive while whispering, “thank you” to the limb. As Cross continued to gently pet the limb, Nightmare turned his attention to Dust and Horror. “What about you two? Do you want to be carried, as well?”

“yes, please,” Horror replied, and Nightmare curled a tendril around him. Horror simply hugged the limb that held him with a content smile.

Dust was hesitant and fiddled with his fingers for a short moment before he softly muttered, “please?”

And with that, Nightmare lifted him off the bed as well. Just as before, there was a flinch at the initial contact, but Dust soon relaxed and was lifted off the bed. He looked down and around himself, interested in the different angle he now had to view everything. 

Nightmare made his way out of his room to theirs to help them pick out what they would wear and get them ready for the day. Keeping Killer and Cross focused was a struggle, but he could after that good sleep. One at a time, he helped them brush their teeth, Cross needing help with the action to make sure he got all of his teeth, and a tendril around Killer kept him in place long enough to complete the task. Once done and dressed, he walked them down the hall.

“what about you, mr. night? you still have your jammies on!” Cross asked.

“That I do. Once you four are being watched by Lyra, I shall change and brush my teeth,” He explained as they continued on their way. This time, they wanted to walk on their own—Killer and Dust on one side, Horror and Cross on the other side of him. Killer and Horror were holding a tendril in one hand and the other’s hand in the other.

Once they reached the kitchen, he found Lyra at the refrigerator going through its contents. She looked up at Nightmare and the others and smiled. “I hope you do not mind. I decided to make meal plans for the week,” she said, closing the refrigerator door.

“I do not mind at all. I will admit, I was so busy with other things that I just decided on meals when it was time to eat,” Nightmare admitted. “Speaking of meals, I have four little baby bones-”

“i’m not a baby! i’m an intrupid,” Killer started.

“Intrepid,” Nightmare corrected.

“intrepid… umm… oh! climber!” Killer announced.

“you are a babybones,” Horror grinned while patting Killer on the head.

“nuh-uh!” Killer rebutted.

“Alright, no more arguing. All four of you are baby bones, adventurous nature or not. Now, if Lyra is alright with it, I will leave you four in her care as I get myself ready for the day,” Nightmare declared.

“okay, mr. night!” Cross said before hugging Nightmare around the legs.

“I think that sounds like a wonderful idea. I will have them help with breakfast, and when you get back, we will enjoy a meal together,” Lyra smiled.

It had been long enough that Dust could now eat most of what was given to him without making him sick. And with them helping, that should keep Killer out of trouble and Horror entertained enough not to prank the others. Content they were in good hands, Nightmare started to turn to leave when he felt someone holding one of his tendrils.

Looking down, he saw Dust holding the limb in question. He was near tears as he looked up at Nightmare with a pleading look that said what his voice was failing to say. Dust wanted to come with. When he was alone with the boys, Dust stayed close whenever Nightmare was home. He usually did not initiate physical contact beyond holding a tendril like now, but he did accept it when offered. At this moment, when the others were going over to Lyra to learn what she had planned for breakfast and how they could help, Nightmare considered Dust may have become “clingy.”

What was he to do…

Nightmare will not admit it, but after his troubles as a small child at the hands of adults… he had a soft spot for them. Such young children should be his brother's concern. And yet, Nightmare just had a hard time hurting, emotionally or physically, children. It just felt like bullying.

He just… didn’t like bullying of children…

That dislike only seemed to get stronger the older he got.

But this wouldn’t be bullying… it would be telling Dust he had to wait with the others.

And yet…

He was getting soft…

Those sad eyelights, tears in the corner of his sockets, as the child silently pleaded…

“Dust,” Lyra said as she walked over and knelt down. “Mr. Night just needs to get dressed and cleaned up like you did.”

Dust looked down at the floor and nodded; he understood, but… Nightmare was the first adult to show him kindness and love. After all the anger and hate he had experienced, Dust seemed scared to be away from Nightmare. He felt safe when Nightmare was around and wanted the guardian who was protecting him from “The Doctor” to stay nearby.

“Lyra, I,” Nightmare started, but Lyra shook her head.

“Dust, I have an idea. Can you help me? Nightmare is going to be very hungry by the time he is done, and I do not think I and the other three could make enough food for him without your help,” Lyra said as she held her hand out to him.

“Hmmm, I am feeling rather peckish right now,” Nightmare said thoughtfully.

“I am sure you will be ravenous by the time you return,” Lyra grinned.

“i thought you didn’t hafta eat since you eat emotions!” Killer blurted out. He then gasped, “what about all the times you didn’t eat with us? Was that because… because you didn’t make enough for all of us and you?”

“Well… I require emotions more than food, but I also enjoy food,” Nightmare explained.

“you really need my help?” Dust asked in a whisper to Lyra.

“I do,” She whispered back. “So, will you help us?”

Dust looked up at Nightmare and then back at her with a nod. With that, she extended her hand, and he placed his hand in hers. She then stood and guided him over to the others. Dust looked back momentarily but then focused on where she was guiding him. With the group distracted with breakfast plans, Nightmare turned and left the room to prepare for the day.

…

He could get used to this…

[souldagger]

i love that in every adrian tchaikovsky book ive read so far he's been like "okay now let's pivot into some of the most bone-chilling horror uve ever read for a chapter or two. ok got it? cool now back to regularly scheduled space opera"

[pancakewithsprinkles]

How'd he get on the cake??

[curemoonliite]

imo, the ideal dark magical girl story should have the same characteristics as a good pastel goth outfit. you can see the pastel, you can see the goth influences, but neither overpower the other. both the bright and the dark aspects are appreciated equally, and both are used to make a statement about style and blend together to create a clear aesthetic. fashions like pastel goth and menhera use aspects of two differing styles to create something new and distinct, and i don't see why dark magical girl stories can't do the same.

basically i think they should be less like the "let's make fun of magical girl stories" edginess of the 2010s and more of just, like, one of those tumblr horror-and-sanrio aesthetic blogs going nuts with it

[chiprewington]

Did you know? Perry's wings aren't natural.

[sawtual]

if anyones curious a little glimpse into miss mandy's conception ^_^💫 i love horror so much YAY

[total-drama-brainrot]

psycho!noah au, what do the aftermath cast think? conversely if they dont know/dont see the show (isnt it implied to be canon in wt that they watch the show or atleast can?), how do they react to newly eliminated cast members telling them?

and then, at whatever point he gets eliminated or just whenever the cast sees him again, how do they react with that new info?

The justification I have for Noah remaining stealthed under his "stoic cynic" persona pre-reveal in this AU is a little convoluted, but I do have one. Vaguely. Which I'll try to outline here for continuities' sake.

So, to clarify; Noah only competes in Island and World Tour, just like in canon. Most things happen just like canon, with the exception of Noah lasting a little longer in Island so he and Izzy have more time to be menaces (I have no idea how I'll shift the elimination order to justify keeping him around, though). Noah's still eliminated fairly early and ends up on the Playa, where the other elimination fodder welcome him with open arms, because in Island they're only given access to the raw camera footage instead of the final cut!

I imagine it'd be pretty hard for a Brand New Show to have the manpower of a full professional editing team that can plan and prosecute the final cut of a whole ~20 minute episode in only three days (in-universe), so to keep the losers as in the know as possible in real time, they're given access to the same live camera footage Chris and Chef have, just without the confessionals.

Since the confessionals are, uh. Toilets. And no one wants to have 24/7 access to toilet stall footage.

Noah only ever really drops his ruse in the confessional, or around Izzy, so none of the losers have gotten the opportunity to see the real him in action; even when he is visible on camera, it's only during the stolen moments he shares with Izzy outside of challenges, wherein the two plot and scheme together like Pinky and the Brain. Given that the majority of them don't even bother to watch the live footage unless there's a challenge actively happening (or something else otherwise noteworthy), his true nature goes undetected amongst them as well.

And then, in Action, the show's budget and workforce increases. Suddenly, the editing team is thrice the size of Island's, and they are capable of providing a final cut of each episode within the span of 24~72 hours, allowing the show to air quicker. Which has the added bonus of allowing everyone in the peanut gallery access to the yet-to-be-aired episodes (instead of the live footage), keeping them up to date with the competition whilst also giving them the same perspective as the audience itself. Including people's confessions.

It's a good thing Noah didn't compete in Action, then. His mask of indifference lives on.

Then there's a year-long break between seasons, wherein Noah works under Chris as his personal assistant. Yada yada yada, World Tour happens. He knows that the losers are going to see his confessions. So now Noah has to choose between maintaining his persona at the sake of losing out on toying with the greater audience, or carrying on as he did in Island at the cost of revealing his 'true colours' (which, in this case, still isn't the real Noah so much as an exaggeration of his more deranged tendencies, since Noah's still essentially performing for the cameras; just with a different role).

Of course he goes with option two. He's primarily motivated by his own amusement- that was the reason for his whole charade in the first place.

(Alright, clarification over, time to actually answer the question.)

So the peanut gallery and steadily increasing number of World Tour Rejects are horrified when, in Noah's scattering of confessions- as he doesn't confess very often, so when he does it's a treat to himself and the audience- he mostly waxes poetic about how exciting each near-death experience the cast go through is, and all of the different ways he so wanted to cause the others harm (either in general, or themed around the challenges), being so much more expressive than anyone's ever seen him (concerningly so, to the point of it breaching the uncanny valley) and giddy over the prospect of performing Acts Of Incredible Violence against his castmates.

They're living in that same fearful anticipation the wider audience experienced through his tenure in Island; waiting for Noah to Drop The Act and fulfil his promises of brutal sabotage, if only to finally put an end to the constant looming threat of his self control snapping. They're horrified bystanders of a car crash waiting to happen (at least, they think they are. Noah's not actually gonna do any of the things he's suggesting, probably, but keeping the audience on their toes is one of his favourite games!) and each episode he features in is a test of both their patience and their own sanity.

Because, could you imagine watching your friends interact and be friendly with someone who (you think) is out for their blood, entirely unaware of the danger? that's literally what they're experiencing.

And Noah, because he's a little shit who thinks he's funny (he is), sometimes goes so far as to fake-out the audience by rearing up attacks against his castmates during challenges, only to shoot the nearest camera a wry wink and a sly smile as he carries on with the actual task at hand, the others none-the-wiser.

It becomes so concerning, in fact, that every new arrival is immediately checked over for any signs of injuries or Noah's Influence and hastily given the rundown on The Situation. Which is, more often than not, met with the same incredulity as Sierra's claims- until they're shown various clips of Noah's confessions, or the fake-outs and otherwise unhinged looks he teases the cameras with.

-

For the second question; I have no idea. I'm still workshopping how people will react to Noah, and how Noah in turn will react to them. Post-reveal p!Noah will, eventually, disclose the fact that he's not as bloodthirsty as he portrays himself as, but until then it's anyone's guess as to how far he'll take the bit- and who could/will get hurt in the process.

[skullywullypully]

Whenever I come across a piece of writing, an artwork, a video analysis, a movie, or a game that involves cosmic horror,

[lesbianfakir]

Does anyone want to see mock up pages from my webcomic? Plssss I need attention and I must share

[meltymoth]

more weird flesh wizard sphinx concepts

their body can twist and compress in various ways and partially merge into itself - so these are sphinxtaur, traditional sphinx, humanoid bipedal as some straightforward ideas